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CCA Open Studios

Visited the California College of the Arts’ Open Studios today. In 5 hours, I visited something like 100 graduate fine arts students’ studios. Here’s what stuck out in my totally subjective walk-through (click on the image to see close-up):

Jessica Miller‘s control-room installation functioned to reveal her experimental foam-making process, and display her stop-motion animations. Made of silver tape, it was wonderfully, fittingly lo-fi.

Gareth Spor displayed a really cool light and mirror-based sculpture that I couldn’t help but love. When you looked in the mirror, your eyes reflected the lights, putting a surreal sparkle in your eyes. I’m interested in his interest in space and astronomy, and look forward to seeing more of his really clean, minimal gestures.

Luke Butler makes fantastic paintings that are funny, beautiful, ironic, and hard not to like. He also makes supplementary ephemera that are self-referential—commenting, I think only semi-ironically, about the myth of the genius. In a neighboring studio, a fellow artist, whose name I think is Moses, reproduced Butler’s studio in color prints. I thought erasing the evidence of his own work from his open studio, and supplanting it with a copy of Butler’s studio, was a wry, brave move.

Christina Empedocles is a really good painter, and I like her new works for their humor. They remind me of Ed Ruscha’s work, which is a good thing.

Leah Rosenberg‘s work has become more formal—a painter, she now works directly with paint, sometimes sans substrate. Some of the gooier uses of paint as adhesives is Sarrita Hunn-like. Her use of doubling/mirroring is shared with Jason Kalogiros, but with additional mirrors even the doubling is doubled.

Mik Gaspay‘s paintings on glicee-printed photographs on canvas are well-executed and cinematic; sci-fi apocalypse in an overgrown jungle.

Andrew Tosiello’s interest in Italian mafias is intriguing. I love that a white ethnic minority is parsing his non-whiteness earnestly and confidently, with neither guilt nor delusion. His work is really well thought out and executed, and has taken an interesting turn into Victorian-era forms, like silhouettes and plaster busts. They seem easily commodified in a market like Design Within Reach, yet Tosiello reminds us that these mobsters are not caricatures; b/w postcards depicting brutal murders attest to their violent realities.

Eliot Daughtry showed new media that seemed to be about new media. I like the re-purposed iMacs. Painted black, they look like regular monitors, until you notice their uber 90’s lozenge shapes.

I’m not smart about photography, but I feel like I’ve seen a lot of projects in which women fictionalized their self-portraits in a documentary style to play out fantasies around class and gender. So I was pleasantly surprised to see Jason Hanasik‘s work, which bravely makes allusions to the life of soldiers in desert camos.

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Research

Fear Not Contemporary Art, Part Two

In a 2001 interview on Fresh Air with Terri Gross, trumpeter and producer Quincy Jones discussed “Soul Bossa Nova” (1962).

This iconic tune (the theme for the Austin Powers movies) may seem kitschy today, but imagine its original context in the early 1960s: the Civil Rights movement, modernism’s internationalism, its embrace of the avant garde… Jazz was not the high-brow classy thing we think of now, but it was cutting edge, dangerous. It conjured nightclubs, interracial relationships (oh my!), critiques of segregation.

Jones described the song’s origins: on tour with Dizzy Gillespie in Brazil, the audience members included teenaged Antonio Carlos Joabim and Astrud and João Gilberto. History was made with this meeting: it inspired “Soul Bossa Nova” and, according to Jones, Joabim’s ground-breaking bossa nova tune, “Desafinado,” is “pure Dizzy Gillespie.”

I was surprised to learn that a major cross-cultural exchange by artistic legends was facilitated by the U.S. government: the tour was sponsored by the State Department.

Artists as cultural ambassadors? Seems so progressive! Today’s politicians view the arts with so much suspicion. Why can’t we have politicians as fervently vocal in their support of contemporary arts and culture as the Guilianis of the world are in their opposition to it?

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Research

On pranks

I’m interested in how the work of art mediates a relationship between the artist and the viewer, akin to Lewis Hyde’s idea that a gift is not just a transference of possessions, but a method of forming a social bond. Naturally, I’d seek to clear this bond of obstructions, which unfortunately, can be viewers’ lack of receptivity.

When viewers haven’t accepted the legitimacy of contemporary art (or even modern art) their tone can be “smugly dismissive,” as art critic Kenneth Baker pointed out a few weeks ago, because as political beings they “dread the stigma of ‘elitism.'”

This dismissal is all too real. At last year’s SECA show at the SF MOMA, a visitor cruised by a contemporary sculpture made of cinderblocks whose broken faces were covered in a graphite-colored glitter (the artist arranged the use of a rooftop from which to throw blocks into a vacant lot).

Hardly pausing to look at the art, the visitor declared her dismissal: “My three-year-old could make that.” To further emphasize her point, she added, “Any three-year-old could make that.”

The viewer’s hostility, I think, reveals her fear of being “had.” While postmodern art can be jokey and upset expectations (about the boundaries of art), I think the viewer’s suspicion that the joke is on her, personally, is revealing.

In “April Fool! The Purpose of Pranks” (NYTimes.com, April 1, 2008), Benedict Carey writes:

“As humans, we develop this notion of fairness as a part of our self-concept, and of course it’s extremely important in exchange relationships,” said Kathleen D. Vohs, a consumer psychologist at the Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota. Dr. Vohs and her co-authors, Roy F. Baumeister of Florida State University and Jason Chin of the University of British Columbia, propose that the fear of being had is a trait that varies from near-obliviousness in some people to hypervigilance in others.

The museum visitor may suspect that artists are playing a joke on her, and that her hypervigilance (or cynicism) protects her from being “had” by fraudulent artworks. Common wisdom (“my three-year-old could do that”) is an anti-intellectual’s response. Even without knowledge of contemporary art history, a little bit of receptivity and curiosity might lead one to consider, Why would an artist would throw bricks off of a rooftop into a vacant lot? Why would she cover the broken faces in glitter? Doesn’t it resemble a man-made geode? What does it mean to take a common material and make it look like a semi-precious stone?).

In fact, many artists use humor or pranksterish tactics to make their work more accessible; to help audiences put aside their fear of contemporary art and engage more fully with the art experience. To paraphrase artist Jason Kaligiros, “Humor is the invitation, but it’s not the party.”

What most skeptical viewers don’t know is that much postmodern art acknowledges the role of the viewer. Without the viewer, I believe a work of art comprises an incomplete circuit.

Carey writes:

…practical jokes are far more commonly an effort to bring a person into a group, anthropologists have found — an integral part of rituals around the world intended to temper success with humility. And recent research suggests that the experience of being duped can stir self-reflection in a way few other experiences can, functioning as a check on arrogance or obliviousness.

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Art & Development

Thoughts on CCA

To help budding young artists, I’d like to share my experiences attending the California College of the Arts. If you’re thinking about applying to CCA, please feel free to read on. Don’t forget to contact the admissions office, tour the campus, and attend public events such as the Open Studios, MFA exhibitions and lectures.

UNDERGRAD

I went to CCA straight out of high school in 1998—which worked because I was committed to being an artist. It was a wonderful experience. I did a lot of growing up really fast.

The good: Small size of classes, small student body, diverse age range (this is no longer true: CCA’s grown a lot and the median age has dropped due to a demographic bump in society at large). Great facilities. Majored in Printmaking, which allowed a very flexible, independent course of study. Dabbled in Illustration with Barron Storey, poetry with Michael McClure, and glassblowing — electives you might not get anywhere else. Lots of opportunities to exhibit art on campus, and high quality of production among my peers.

The bad: Expensive. Not very diverse. When I attended, there were few community programs or opportunities to teach (which has changed since then).

The scoop: You get in what you put in. The school emphasizes studio practice and experimentation—you can just do your assignments or you could self-motivate and develop a real studio practice. Remember that being a good student doesn’t make you a good artist. And, I took humanities classes at a JC. For the math and sciences requirements (fulfilled with a liberal arts math course and oceanography!), it seemed just as well, and a lot cheaper.

GRAD

Thinking about it.

Knowing when it’s time. I was very satisfied with my undergrad education. What I missed—community engagement—I got through working with community organizations for several years. Though I stayed in the same region, I lost contact with my peers, and a support network and sense of connection to contemporary art. After 7 years of being out of school, I felt like my studio practice was not advancing. My undergrad education had taken me as far as it could go.

Applying. I should have researched the top schools, those that offer fellowships (like Stanford and UC Berkeley), identified the right fits for me, and build up a body of work for a killer application. Instead, I applied to grad school on a whim. CCA accepted me, and I was offered a scholarship I couldn’t refuse.

The program.

Craft. It’s a great program if you want to refine your conceptual approach and learn about contemporary practices. It’s not great if you want to gain lots of technical skills. Technical advancement is just not part of the curriculum structure; the short duration makes it even hard to fit time-consuming skills development in. Re: the CCA(C) debacle (the college, formerly known as California College of Arts and Crafts, dropped the “C” for Crafts a few years ago). It’s a passionately big deal for some, but not for me. The excellent textile, glass, printmaking and ceramics facilities remain.

Duration. CCA’s MFA program is two years—some programs are three. By the end of two years I was dying to get out; on the other hand, the four semesters flew by and I could easily used another year to incubate my ideas. Because of the short duration, I wanted a really intensive experience, and I believe that if you can avoid working while you’re in the graduate program, it’s worth it. For example, on-campus work-study jobs pay about $11/hour, but one session of one class costs around $200. It seems to me that making the most of the program is a better return on your time.

Size. The grad program is huge. My class had 50 students — compare this to Stanford or UC Berkeley, which admit 5-10 MFA students a year. The program continues to grow, and I can’t help but wonder if opportunities to build meaningful relationships with peers and faculty diminish.

Campuses. Two campuses: Oakland has mostly fine art facilities and undergrad classrooms. Grad studios and classes are located in SF. The commute is a daily reality to take into consideration. I think my colleagues who lived in the city didn’t take advantage of the Oakland campus’ facilities and library resources nearly enough.

Studio. You get a decent-sized studio. As mentioned, you get what you put in. Reviews, crits, open houses—your space is yours to re-arrange, so you might as well make the most out of it as both a work space and gallery space.

The good: The Studio Practice Unit format allows you to work with amazing faculty and guests from the public realm. Find allies like Ted Purves, who’s super smart and easy to talk to… knowledgeable about contemporary art yet it doesn’t limit his field of references. Be imaginative and self-directed. Work with professional gallerists and dealers—since they’re not a part of an academic system, they have no reason to mince their words. Try to balance your courseload with at least one instructor who supports you and one who terrifies you. I also enjoyed Writing electives with interesting thinkers like Kevin Killian. Aggressively take advantage of all the perks, like the media center, high-tech wood and design shops, print output services, etc. Go to as many lectures as you can (at CCA and SFAI, since they’re almost always free and open to the public), and to the Wattis shows. Get used to talking about your work. If you don’t like talking about your work, take grad school as an opportunity to learn to like it. There’s hardly any professional development in the curriculum, so getting comfortable presenting about your ideas is one of the most pragmatic skills you will leave with.

The bad: CCA’s grad program has a strange relationship with some of the departments, which might be characterized as inconsistent at best, antagonistic at worst. Not all grad schools operate this way (i.e., instead of a degree in Printmaking you’d get a degree in Studio Art), but CCA does, and what is expected of you can seem murky. Your receptivity is key to having a transformative grad experience, but the bottom line is that you define your practice at the end of the day.

The scoop: When it comes to Records and Accounts, the school can be bureaucratic in the worst way. Financial safety nets will come in handy. Participate in art-life on and off campus. Be aware that life in grad school is much different than life outside of grad school. This can take a surprising toll on your relationships.

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Art & Development, Community

Artist’s Talk: Chris Bell at the Headlands

I’ve been a fan of Chris Bell’s work for a long time. He uses technology and science in experiment-like sculptures that create pleasing metaphors. He presented an artist’s talk at the Headlands last night, which greatly increased my appreciation for the development — from his early sun-based works to feats of electricity to his current video- and sound-based installations. Because his work is so subtle and the viewer’s experience is comprised of many sensory inputs (you have to be there), still photographs of Chris’ work benefit from some verbal explanation.

Sufi Disco, an installation where pairs of light bulbs dangle on rotating ropes, is pretty fantastic.
Chris Bell Sufi Disco

I also really love the delightful metaphor and feeling of suspense in Propeller, in which lightbulbs rotate, rising and setting like the sun.
chris bell propeller

While I obviously share an affinity with lightbulbs, it was funny to hear about how Chris enjoyed working with plate glass after building several water tanks to display submerged electrical items. I had glazed my first window during the installation for Activist Imagination, so it was both serendipitous and inspiring to see Bell’s Passing Through, a site-specific window intervention, extending the gallery’s windows and fan system.
chris bell passing through

All images borrowed from Chris Bell’s website, DashDotDash.net.

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Research

Good news in a time of financial tightening…

To be prosocial (which encapsulates philanthropy, activism and generosity) is to be optimistic that one’s contributions or behaviors matter. As Jim Giles wrote in the New Scientist (excerpts below) prosocial acts, not possessions, increase happiness. So acting towards material comforts might be asocial, reinforcing my idea that pessimism is tied to our meatspace reality and that our material reality is one of inadequacy and futility.

Money can buy happiness, but only if we spend it on others, say researchers behind a three-part psychology experiment.

The study is interesting because it suggests that the way money is spent may be more important than total income, which people often focus on as a source of happiness, says Sonja Lyubomirsky, a psychologist at the University of California, Riverside.

Lyubomirsky has recorded similar increases in happiness in students who were asked to perform acts of kindness, such as helping a friend with their homework.

She suggests that the reason may be due to the way we adapt to changes in our lives.

“Moving into a bigger house will give you a happiness boost, but you then get used to the house,” says Lyubomirsky. The same goes for other types of possessions.

Acts of kindness, by contrast, are more likely to produce unexpected positive outcomes, such as a favour performed in return. Prosocial acts also enhance our self-perception in a way that possessions do not, adds Lyubomirsky.

From Jim Giles’ “Give away your money and be happy,” NewScientist.com, March 20, 2008

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Art & Development

Annual report for a castle

Christopher Terry, proprietor of Brougham Hall, writes with wonderfully tongue-in-cheek style:

The Stars and Stripes flew, on 28th September, to greet the new American surge in Penrith. For sometime the northern suburbs have been successfully subjugated by Maj. “Big Mac” Donald. Enter Col. “finger licking” Saunders and his KFC men to take control of the areas to the south of the town. The coup de grace came in the form of Christine Wong Yap, flown into Brougham Hall, from California, irrespective of cost, by the Lottery Fund, in what was billed as the largest invasion of artists in Europe – all 72 of them. In Tate Modern style, Mrs Yap brought a number of black polythene garbage sacks, which the public were invited to inflate, with the aid of bicycle pumps to create interactive sculpture. Meanwhile another artist, Sally Barker, was exhibiting Easter Island figures, the size of chess men, half way up Stickle Ghyll, Great Langdale, in the unusual medium of sheep excrement and Steve Messam set himself the ambitious task of building 18,000 sandcastles, each topped with a red paper flag, on a lonely beach, west of St Bee’s. On 14th October, our remarkable garbage bags vanished and we were left uncertain as to whether they had been scooped up by Lord Saatchi or by Kentucky Fried Chicken.

From the BROUGHAM HALL ANNUAL REPORT, December 2007

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